An affinity for Dragons.
by Draco's Ravenclaw
Summary: Draco's Dad has always been a dabbler, how would he react if he knew he had one of the most precious treasures a Dark Wizard could own living in his own house.


My name is Draco, I always liked it since it's unusual. It's also Latin which is the language I love. Another reason I like my name is how appropriate it is. I don't exactly have a literally fiery temper or blow smoke out of my nose when I sleep, at least not all the time.  
As most people here will know the Malfoy family is a very old Wizarding family. I think we can trace ourselves back to the time of the early Tudors. Anyway old Wizard families have a tendency to accumulate quirks, weird abilities, Parselmouth is but one example. The ability to become an Animagus is also to some extent governed by your blood. There are rarer abilities still. A wizard who can perform wandless magic or bestow healing powers are found only every few generations.  
I know for a fact I am rarer. I keep what I can do very very quiet. I first found I could do it at a very young age. My father is a keen dabbler in the Dark Arts, Okay maybe more than a dabbler but again I am straying from the point. Dragons are very powerful magical creatures and play a key role in many nastier potions. It is also very expensive to keep buying Dragon this and Dragon that. To avoid the expense and the attention my Father has always kept several varieties of Dragon on our property. Since I was small I can remember being taken to feed them and petting them as they lay stunned. Then one day it all changed.  
Father was busy off dealing with some beauracracy problem in Paris and I was left all alone with my Mother and the House elves. I was only eight and obviously bored. Looking back I was incredibly lucky, any other child would have been eaten as a char grilled snack. Not me though. I walked right up to the dragon as it slept and touched its orange, mottled skin. How was I to know that despite being almost impenetrable a Dragon's skin is very sensitive. The beast reared up on it's hindlegs and seemed about to flame me. I cried out in terror for my Mother. I was curled up on the grass shaking , waiting for the flames. They didn't come.  
"Are ye going ta move or do I hafta prod ye with these."  
The voice was harsh and gravely. I peeked out from between my arms thinking that the gardener had through some miracle managed to stun the Dragon. He hadn't, there was no one there. I must have looked a sight as I got up.  
  
"Hello?" I squeaked.  
  
"There's no need to squeak I can understand."  
  
The Dragon was speaking, I couldn't contain my astonishment. I gawped for a good few minutes before my next intelligent comment.  
  
"Where, where did you learn to talk?"  
  
Two enormous jets of flame spurted from it's nostrils as it laughed at me.   
  
"I should be askin you lad, you're the one that's roarin at me."  
  
"Really?"  
  
It nodded. "I aven't met any Wizard that could talk to a Dragon since I was a hatchling. You've got a pretty rare talent there."  
  
"Am I a Parselmouth?" A sudden flush of importance came over me. I knew that was rare and that it was good. The Dragon didn't seem to think so. It lashed it's tail and the flames from it's nostrils turned blue.   
  
"Do I look like a crawling snake to you boy?" It stomped it's feet for emphasis.  
  
"You have an affinity gift. It's in your being to be connected with a magical creature. In this case us."  
  
"I never heard of it."  
  
"Like I said it's rare."  
  
At that point my mother chose to glance out the window. She saw me within five metres of an unchained Dragon and paniced totally. Grabbing her wand she rushed out and stunned my new friend there and then. Her frightened gabble scared me so much that I didn't return to the dragon pen alone for several weeks.  
  
When I finally did I was very glad. The Dragon, if you will pardon the pun, took me under his wing and started to educate me in the way of the winged magical creatures and what my connection to them meant. Father was away too often to realise his only son spent all evening talking to Dragons. I told Mother that I was walking, she seemed to accept it but still insisted that I attend certain parties over the course of the year.  
  
"You've been alive for 700 years!!"  
  
"Yep," Cairhorn grinned exposing his razor sharp teeth, "Dragons are long lived lad. You will be too."  
  
"I will?"  
  
"Aye, you're virtually a Dragon y'see. You have a part of you that is us and that lives for a long time. I would say you've got at least a millennium."  
  
The span of time seemed too immense to comprehend. I was speechless for a few seconds while it sank in. I tried to imagine watching everything die away and seeing the world trickle by, lifetime after lifetime.  
  
"Is there anything else that comes with an affinity apart from the long life and the chat?" I tried to be flippant but my voice shook.  
  
"Well ye can transform o'course but that'll take some doing."  
  
"I can actually BECOME a Dragon."  
  
"Not yet you can't ."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"We're all waiting for Alnilham to arrive."  
  
"Who's that? Another Dragon?"  
  
"You wait and see."  
  
With that he turned away and the sparks deep in his nostrils faded and smoke whispered gently into the sky. He was asleep. I turned back towards the manor. The lights of civilisation were beckoning. I killed the Dragon in me for another day and switched back to being the responsible son. 


End file.
